


A Heart Without Color

by LilyanM



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22341928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyanM/pseuds/LilyanM
Summary: What if MadamSpellman was canon? Well, somebody would probably be at death’s door.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. The Dark Baptism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all the fans of these beautiful ladies](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+the+fans+of+these+beautiful+ladies).



> I apologize for all my grammar mistakes.

_In the beginning there was nothing, which exploded. (Terry Pratchett)_

Salem sat near the kitchen counter, eating his breakfast, slurping and purring with pleasure.

> Hilda and I have errands to run and preparations to finish... - said the ginger, stirring her morning coffee.

The cat hisses when hot drops dripping from the spoon reach its hair and dissolve in a bowl of warm milk. 

The room was filled with morning light. The light was refracting and falling on a plate of fruit: plums and an apple, in this light looking like the skull of some monk in old catacombs. A cigarette was smoldering nearby, the smoke twitching slightly from the movements of air.

> But I’ve already called Baxter High and told them you’re having a terrible outbreak of hives - she was elated.

She leaned forward and placed her hand on Sabrina’s forearm.

> What? Why would you do that, aunt Zelda? - she looked at her in complete misunderstanding.

Sabrina didn’t share her aunt’s high spirits.

> The day before your Dark Baptism should be spent in quiet contemplation, reading your satanic verses.

She lifted Sabrina’s chin tenderly and smiled. The girl started resenting but this did not affect ginger’s mood. She took a sip of coffee, smirked, and when Ambrose agreed to keep Sabrina company, a blush appeared on her cheeks and, picking up the paper, she now quietly enjoyed the morning.

Sabrina looked at her, got up and silently left the kitchen. Ambrose put his plate aside, gave Zelda a glance full of scorn felt only out of sympathy for the girl, and followed his cousin to the stairs.

The blonde entered the room and settled herself near the kitchen island.

> Don’t we push too hard? She might not have another chance to.. 
> 
> Hilda, - the ginger folded the paper. 
> 
> Hmm? 
> 
> Take care of the soil and saltwater,- she got up and was about to leave the kitchen but suddenly turned around and looked straight at the blonde, who was hardly holding back the tears - she should learn how to insure herself from pain now or else will be too late.  
>    
> 

* * *

> So sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Meeks..

A small woman, bending over the table raised her head in an uncertain. Her face was covered with a remarkable number of tiny maculae, so the one began wondering if she has ever seen the light of day. 

> .. but Sabrina Spellman wasn’t in homeroom this morning and I.. I wondered if you’d heard from her. 
> 
> I did, - she hesitated for a word - Well, from her aunt. 
> 
> Ah!
> 
> Hilda? Zelda? One of them called to say that Sabrina’s feeling under the weather and will be staying home today. 
> 
> Oh! And on her birthday, - Ms. Wardwell clicks her tongue and forces a smile - Oh, dear. Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. Have a good day, Mrs. Meeks. Happy Halloween!

Ms. Wardwell went out the cabinet, chuckling, anticipating her dignity at the hour she gets a crown and a thrown by the side of the Dark Lord. 

She entered her office and eased into a chair. 

> Oh, Stolas.. After Sabrina signes her name in the Book of the Beast, I finally get what I’ve been working for so long. But.. we need to ensure everything goes exactly as planned..

* * *

Zelda was standing by the window smoking her cigarette.  She was mentally traveling over everything necessary in her head and marking what had already been done. She‘d provided for everything for she knew the whole procedure perfectly. 

> Hmm, Zelds - Hilda was talking in a diffident tone as she wasn’t sure about Zelda’s mood - Mr. Putnam’s just called. 
> 
> I’ll be ready in a minute. 

The blonde just nodded and left the room. Zelda put out her cigarette and went up to the closet. She got a suit of Spanish paprika color furred with fox on the collar. 

She went downstairs. Taking the car key, she called for Hilda but it wasn’t answered. She came into the kitchen and saw Hilda sitting at the table, fidgeting with a handkerchief, staring at the woods through the window. 

> What is it? - Zelda asked firmly. 
> 
> I.. - she sniffed and wiped the tears,- I never thought it will.. - her mind was dwelling on the past - Do you remember? Those tiny little feet, big eyes searching for cookies - that brought a smile on her face - and how she used to run to our bedroom and crawl into one of our bed when she was afraid of darkness. Remember? 

Zelda smiled slightly. She remembered singing Sabrina songs so she could fall asleep and wrapping her arms tight around the girl and promising not to let go. 

> It couldn’t last forever. It’s time for her to become a full member of coven. 
> 
> I know, I just - she sniffed again - let’s go. 

They went out on the porch. A breeze rustled the leaves. They could feel autumn slowly turning to winter, could detect a faint scent of cold.  They got into the car. All the way up to the Putnams’ farm they were silent.

* * *

She was sitting by the fire drinking wine and thinking about her future. She would have dreamed about it if she could dream at all. Sometimes she even regretted she could never see the dreams she‘d been working out for her victims for they were so vivid, tempting, even mucky. 

She could remember each tormented face perfectly. Those men, squirming in their beds, hands and feet twitching away as if their bodies were talking, whispering to her. How they were moaning, hoarse voices sounding distorted with pain, and pleasure at the same time. And how, after all, they were awakening - hot, sweaty, full of desire, when she, standing at the foot of the bed, was taking away what seemed to be appreciated more than anything, and having seen her, they would rush into agony, would scream and cry but, in fact, wouldn’t make a sound. 

So she was sitting there, 11 pm it was, the window open, the cool breeze, and suddenly she could feel anger enters through the throat and comes to an uncontrolled tapping of the fingers. 

‘Wait for something long enough and you no longer belong to yourself.’

That was a simple idea. The one that comes to each of those awaiting. It did make her stand, though. It was muscular. It was nervous. 

She could sit no more, could wait no more.

She put lipstick, red, threw a coat and headed toward the woods. 

The full blood moon was high in the sky. She walked carefully on dry branches and dead leaves not to make unwanted sounds. It’s the precaution that prevents her from blending in and makes her hide behind the tree. Not one step further. 

She stood there watching, observing all things wicked, all in a fluster. She saw the man, the High Priest; he seemed annoyed that the girl was being late and that very fact made her sneer. She then set eyes on two figures standing in the centre as if irrelative to the crowd. 

‘That must be them’ - echoed in her head. 

She looked fixedly at them. She couldn’t tell what it was, exactly. But she could examine them to see what it was that alarmed her so much in these women. 

She ran her eyes over the plump blonde who was trying to control her worry by either biting her lower lip or lowering her head and looking at the toes of her shoes. 

‘The cuddly kind. Won’t be a problem’ - she noticed to herself. 

She then switched her attention to a otherwoman. She knew for sure now what kept her glance suspended. This woman was all authority and zest. 

A cold, hard stare. Tension of the lips given out by tiny wrinkles around the mouth. She was standing there confident and free but like a wild cat, ready to jump, to attack. 

‘How beautiful she’d look dead’, she tilted her head slightly and licked her lips as trying on death on her. ‘On second thought.. I might need someone to lead Sabrina on.’ 

She knew, once the girl signs her name in the Book, her work is good as done, and that gave her peace. 

* * *

Zelda came running into the room. She was thrown off her balance with anger but was suspiciously quiet. She came to the window and lit the cigarette, trying to concentrate on something that seemed to be vital. Something that was making her worry. Something intangible that she couldn’t yet detect. 

She was surprised at the tension and uncertainty with which her fingers touched the wooden surface.

> Zelds,- Hilda went into the room.

Ofsurprise and growing anxiety, Zelda turned to her very quickly, nervously, and from that she reeled a little and leaned on the windowsill.

> You alright? - asked the blonde with a deep concern.

She was now staggering about the room, quiet still, lost inside her own mind. Flicking the ashes on the rug, she didn’t realize it, it was mechanical movement which somehow kept her in peace with herself.

> A witch without a coven - she laughed  nervously. - It’s.. It’s unthinkable!

For the first time, Hilda looked at her sister. She saw exhaustion, standing in the middle of the room with a burned out cigarette in its crooked hand. She knew she had to say something but the words just didn’t come out, and timeless oppressive silence had suspended in the air. 


	2. Charm all over You

_But real corruption is a thin, subtle blade._

_(Lilith)_

It still smelled sulfur. Though it wasn’t that lovely scent she remembered, it was now mixed with the human smell: the smell of grass, perfume, food and many others that could resemble the scent of home but could never repeat it. 

She poured herself some wine. 

‘I could have just killed her.. accidentally.’

That wasn’t a real thought. It was that she could not make it all make sense. 

She heard a loud, sharp sound as if somebody was walking a crack. 

> You’re right, Stolas. But we can have the job done without having to waste her. One powerful witch might come in handy. 

She grinned. A strange twinkle in her eyes, a little danger was denoting a terrible plan, forming in her mind. 

* * *

> Erm, aunties? 

Ambrose entered the kitchen holding an envelope in one hand and a pack of Gushers in the other. The kitchen smelled of the sharp odor of mustard greens cooking. He saw Hilda standing in front of the stove. 

> Where’s Zelda?
> 
> She’s in the office, hon. Everything alright?

She smiled. She would smile at you all the time, no matter what. Sometimes it made you wonder what could possibly elicit that kind of smile. 

> You’ve been summoned to the court. 

The smell suddenly got stronger, causing nausea and stinging in the eyes. She giggled in misunderstanding.

> What? 

He handed her the envelope. She opened it and skipped through the text waiting for it to make sense. 

> Call for your aunt Zelda, will you Ambrose? 

Everything got glaring, deafening. She should have expected that, something like that, at least. She was reading it over and over but every other time with much more of both terror and relief. 

> What in Satan’s name is going on? - the ginger ran into the kitchen.

Hilda seemed almost catatonic. Being unable to say a word, she just passed the letter on to her sister. 

> And switch that bloody stove off!

The ginger read the paper very attentively, accompanying it with harsh sighs and aggressive use of a smile. 

> How embarrassing! - she began circulating through the room. 
> 
> Zelds, it’s..
> 
> No, Hilda! No! A breach of promise! Do you even understand what it means?

The blonde lowered her head. 

> Do you?! We have broken the promise given to Faustus, to the Dark Lord and brought shame to our family. Now we will lose all credibility. And why? All because you decided to tell Sabrina about your stupid regrets! This will affect us all - she gasped with exertion - Do not expect her to accept all the conditions. She does not think about the consequences. She won’t be paying for it. We will. 

* * *

  
‘It is pathetic for a woman to be pinning over a man.’

She was watching Faustus, who held Zelda’s hand. She saw the power in his eyes, desire to dominate. She couldn’t believe this woman can be foolish enough to believe this man. And then she saw how sweet Zelda smiled at him goodbye. That’s how really unhappy women smile. That’s how smart women smile. 

Zelda left and she came out of the shadow. 

> Don’t underestimate her, Blackwood. 

He grunted. 

> She’s useless. The girl is important.
> 
> She’s a child, Faustus, a frightened, confused child. Her loyalty is to family. The people she loves and.. trusts. That bound must be severed.

She poured herself a nice scotch and took a sip.

> And what do you suggest? 
> 
> Leave it to me. I can’t risk leaving Sabrina’s fate in lesser hands.

She put the glass back on the table. He was about to say something but she disappeared to not allow him to have the last word.

* * *

> Oh!

Zelda was sitting by the mirror, examining flat, dark mark on her cheek that showed through the layers of powder. 

> I look like I’ve been reconstructed from cadaver parts! - her voice became husky and to the end of the sentence it just cut off. 
> 
> Sorry, auntie, cosmetology is not really my field..

Ambrose stood away a little, admiring his own work. 

> I barely see it! - Hilda went into raptures over it. 
> 
> That’s because your eyesight is terrible! - said the ginger, getting up out of the chair. 

Hilda rolled her eyes and let it pass. She smiled at Ambrose in rather an unnatural way. Maybe it was a missing tooth or the skin unwonted to these lines, either way, it looked foreign to her face. 

> I’m always at your service, auntie - he gave a little bow and walked out the room. 

She turned to Zelda, who was standing at the bureau combing her hair. Hilda was staring past her as if something was haunting her mind. 

> Zelds, you ever.. erm.. wonder what your life would be like if you were.. a human, mortal?- she regretted this question immediately. 
> 
> What?- the ginger looked at her contemptuously through the mirror. 
> 
> I mean, ever dreamed of growing old, having gray hair, getting a dog and..
> 
> I already have a dog! And no, Hilda. I’m busy enough to look forward to death.

She continued combing her hair but with utmost care now as if for the first time she noticed it turned gray and from that it began to be of a real value. 

> Are you afraid of.. of dying? - she asked carefully so she didn’t hurt sister’s pride. 

Zelda put the comb aside and started adjusting a frill, smoothing it out, trying to avoid eye contact with Hilda. There were fragments and memories left in Zelda’s mind. The academy, long conversations, books, wild orgies, first walk to church, her parents... There was everything in her life but nothing remained, nothing lingered long enough to mean something to her. 

> I've chosen this life long ago to not ever experience any emotional turmoil. But now I’m afraid that I wasted my life, that I made a bad choice- she sighed - It’s not that I’m afraid to die, Hilda, it’s just there’s nothing I’d wish to die for. 

She finally looked at her sister, who had tears in the eyes. She forced a smile. 

> We’ll be late.

* * *

She left the church, heading back to her house. Having observed the trial in the back row, she was sure there was no use sitting on the fence. 

Her plan could have seemed complicated, confusing. Only woman can resort to such plan, since she is capable of understanding its elegance and simplicity, since she knows killing requires gentleness. 

She went into the house. With a mere flick of the wrist, she lit the fire. 

> Well-well, Stolas, time to play. 

She laughed and brought one white candle to the flame close enough to light it. The candle was burning and became swallowing. 

> All those who gave dust to lovers, I invoke you - she cut the hair and burned it in a candle flame.

In a small metal dish she mixed together rosewater, saffron and musk. She put her finger in it and soon after, the mixture started boiling, emitting a delicate fragrance. She dipped a silk string in it and made a knot. 

> _ I bind your soul, I bind your mind. _
> 
> _ Your heart without me is torn apart.  _

She burned the end of the rope and made another knot.

> _ My name is heard from all your screams,  _
> 
> _ My face appears in all your dreams.  _

She saw Zelda talking to her sister. She saw her in the kitchen, saw her walking down the street. 

> _ My fingers up and down your spine, _
> 
> _ Your love for others forever dies.  _

Zelda was lying in bed. Suddenly she felt a cold touch on her arm, her face twitched with emotion. It felt deep and private, it was holding her from breathing.

> _I bind your heart, your soul to me  
>  Until I wish to set it free._

The candle burned out. That night she didn’t sleep.


	3. Demon in the Bedroom

_ One need not be a chamber to be haunted. One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place.  _

_ (Emily Dickinson) _

Zelda hadn’t slept in a week now. Every time she went to bed, she felt someone's presence. She wanted to turn and look at them but couldn’t. She was struggling to breathe. Her chest got tight as if  something were pressing her into the mattress. The pressure was so intense that it seemed that every bone in her body was cracking and crumbling. When she started blacking out of suffocation, everything got bleary, creating a kind of psychedelic haze, she was beginning to see faint contours of a face.  _ It _ approached her, she could feel its hot breath on her mouth. She wanted to scream but not even the simplest sound could come out. Suddenly, everything disappeared. She could only hear a muffled gasp, and feel someone in the corner still watching her. 

Therefore, she decided that it was better not to sleep at all. A witch can do without a sleep for two, three days at most. Though it seemed that sleep deprivation didn’t exhaust her in any way, on the contrary, invigorated her. She read more, worked more. In a week, she managed to learn a new language to diversify her morning readings. 

She was now standing in the embalming room holding her medical bag, getting ready for Constance’ examination. She put stethoscope, paper towels, ammonia, various plants and herbs. When putting the last bottle, she paused for a split second. It was an infusion of pomegranate peels and bergenia leaves, very effective against severe pain, minor bleeding, and even infertility. Zelda brought the bottle closer to her face. She recoiled in horror and pressed herself against the wall. Her whole body was riddled with anxiety. It was the smell of her nightmares, only more sharp, bitter. She put the vial back on the shelf, closed the bag and left the room.

Rest of the house was fresh. She walked toward the kitchen for no good reason, but having heard the voices, she stopped. She leaned on the wall clutching at her chest.

> Thought my ears were burning - she said, coming into the room just to calm herself down. 

It was a common practice, to attack so that she didn’t have to defend herself. 

Hilda said something in reply, but the ginger wasn’t listening. She looked at her and felt that something about the way her sister's voice sounded, the way she was dressed and behaved sickened her. Zelda woke up from her own scream, so fierce that it seemed to be coming from a very different dimension. But, oh, what a pleasure it was to see Hilda's pained expression. She wanted to hurt her, to make her feel bad. All her anxiety was dispelled. She came out of the kitchen savoring her own triumph. And she wasn’t at all ashamed of it.

* * *

> Why don’t you shift your focus?  
>   
> 

She was looking at Faustus, stifling the urge to rip his throat out. She didn’t tolerate advice from men. In fact, she tolerated little in them at all, except perhaps the taste of their flesh on the tongue. 

> I am merely pointing out that with Sabrina away, her chums will be vulnerable. Her aunties, too. 

And the worst thing was when men were right. It was time to pay Zelda a visit but she was too busy dealing with the girl’s mortal friends. 

> And you might have some fun, Ms. Wardwell. 

She went close to the table. Fastus watched her every move, fearing that some of them might be the end of him. His tension had her grinning. She held out her hand to open the cage.

> Come on, Stolas, we’ve got to go. 

She was right next to the Spellmans’ house. She rang the doorbell. 

She could‘ve easily gone unnoticed, but she didn’t need to. Only the one who doesn’t want to remain in someone’s memory walks unnoticed. But she wanted to take possession of their memory, wanted to control it. 

A little blonde opened the door. She smiled nervously and let her into the house. 

> We don’t usually take walk-ins. It’s not that kind of, uh.. not that kind of business. 

She walked elegantly into the house, looking around.

> I have to pop to the, um.. I’ll just be like ten minutes. 

Hilda was uptight and that played right into Lilith’s hand. Making sure that the blonde was gone, she headed upstairs to Zelda’s bedroom.

The room was a beautiful place of glass and pale ice-blue and obsidian and with its gloominess resembled an ancient temple. Zelda’s bed shimmered royal purple in the subdued light. She came closer and ran her hand over the pillow to feel the cold of an untouched bed. 

She wasn’t at all lyric in this action. She knew that any physical contact, both direct and indirect, will enhance the effect of the spell.

So she touched the pillow, the blanket, she ran her fingers over the storage chest and then came to the closet. She opened it up and took two dresses out of the deep depths. First one was a white linen gown with rose flowers, which belonged to the blonde. And the second one was Tuscan silk with rich navy stripe along the skirt. She smirked a little when she imagined Zelda wearing this dress, fluttering in this room like a golden canary, leaving a blue ripple behind her tread. She cut off a piece of fabric from each dress and when she was just about to go, she stopped. She decided to put a spell on the mirror, so she could watch the witch. 

She went out the bedroom and was already descending the stairs when Zelda appeared on the doorstep.

> Excuse me, may I help you? 
> 
> So sorry. I was looking for a powder room and that lovely little.. 
> 
> And you are?
> 
> Ms. Wardwell. I’m one of Sabrina’s..

She missed the step but Zelda grabbed her shoulders and broke the fall. Nothing was left to accident. She deliberately stumbled to make the witch get close to her. 

Zelda felt a faint pomegranate smell. Her whole body jerked toward this smell, wanting to touch him and feel the thin skin under the oily film of perfume.

Lilith looked her in the eyes. All sounds grew fainter, till it were heard no more. Everything became warped, bright, like pieces of colored glass in a kaleidoscope. Everything was changing as if it was somehow physically rotated and only woman’s eyes remained still. 

Zelda kisses her, tentative at first, barely touching, but then passionately, insatiably. Her fingers tangle in woman’s curls, tongue slips inside her mouth. Zelda pulls away to catch the breath. But Lilith kisses her back, pulling the witch against her, teeth grazing Zelda’s lower lip, making her shiver.

> Oh, thank you.

She said this like everything that just happened was nothing. 

Zelda glanced at her own hands that were still clutching female shoulders.  _ That never happened. _ She was searching her mind for a logical explanation but there was none.  _ But it felt so real. _

> I should be on my way.

Zelda watched her go. She would like to be embarrassed but ended up staring at the woman’s shape, secretly wanting her to come back.

Everything worked out perfectly. Lilith stepped out the door, leaving it open to the ginger’s gaze. 

Zelda shut the door and headed to the basement. She was still processing what happened when she saw Ambrose lying on the dissection table. She broke the magic circle and told both Ambrose and Hilda off. When they left, ashamed but childishly pleased with the success of their enterprise, she went up to the cabinet. She looked at the little bottle standing on the shelf. Not understanding what she was doing, she reached out for it. She opened the lid and covered the top with the finger, turning it upside down and then right side up. She applied the infusion gently to the pulse point on the inner wrist as if it was a very expensive perfume. She was staring at her wrist, fighting her own thoughts, not wanting to give in. She brought the hand up to her face. That scent she inhaled deeply, forcing it to fill her lungs. She felt saliva flooding her mouth in fond remembrance of kiss that never happened.  _ It felt too damn real. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy it. I’m having a hard time describing everything I want to in English..


	4. Nocturnal Warfare

_ Good night - may you fall asleep in the arms of a dream, so beautiful, you'll cry when you awake. _

_ Michael Faudet _

Ambrose and Hilda were sitting in the kitchen. The room was full of a buttery low light of candles. 

> So it went well, then? - she asked, pouring tea in silvery green cups. 

Ambrose took the cup in his hands and inhaled hot currant tea vapors. He looked at Hilda. Amused by the childish twinkle in her eyes, he nodded. 

> That’s it? - she looked pleadingly at him and then jumped up suddenly from the chair. 
> 
> So.. - she put a plate of biscuits on the table and sat down again. - Did he notice? 
> 
> No, I guess. 
> 
> Good. What did you two.. 

She became silent, she only stared uneasily at one point. Ambrose followed her gaze to the doorway into which Zelda had just entered. 

She went to the cupboard and took a bottle of whiskey. She looked lost and nervous, her hands trembling slightly. Seen from a distance, she looked deeply concerned. However, just about able to slowly drag her feet along, Zelda didn’t even notice the trembling. She moved as hard and slow as if her ankles were chained. Her knees were shaking terribly. Her mouth was dry and nothing but whiskey could quench her thirst. 

> What’s that smell?

Ambrose made a face. 

This bitter smell was an unnecessary complement to the sweetness of air. It seemed familiar to Hilda. She remembered centuries of women’s pain and agony, centuries infected with this odor. 

> Is Lady Blackwood alright? You smell like that infusion.. what’s it called..

Zelda didn’t answer, didn’t look in their direction, in fact, she didn’t even notice them there. 

> Zelds? 

She walked past them into the corridor and up the stairs to the bedroom. 

> That was strange. 
> 
> Was it? - retorted Ambrose. 

Hilda frowned and, not having finished her tea, put the cup in the sink. 

She began to clear the table. 

> Leave it, auntie. Go check on our Virginia. 

She smiled at him. 

> Goodnight, hon. 

Ambrose nodded in reply and reached out for the biscuit. 

When Hilda entered the room, Zelda was sitting in bed, reading. Over the years, Hilda became accustomed to her sister’s character. She was used to the constant irony in Zelda’s voice, her aloofness, she even got used to dying every time Zelda was bored or angry. But there were days when gentleness and fragility took over Zelda as if something human had been awakening inside her. Days like this Hilda was just trying not to leave her alone, not knowing what else could be done. 

> Oh, here you are. Ambrose was just telling me about that boy, remember? Well, not quite telling, but.. 
> 
> Save it for your diary, Hilda.-  she turned off the lamp, lay down and turned to the wall. 
> 
> Well, goodnight, then. 

Zelda lay still. Neither did she close her eyes nor did she look somewhere in particular. Lying there, she was thinking about many things and getting lost in the details of nothing . She thought of motherhood. Feeling the void inside, she questioned whether it was right to renounce it. She thought of things she intended to do but never did. She was desperately trying to figure out why, but it all jumbled together. Maybe it was her family. She thought of it, too. How come she became the guardian of this home? Did anyone assign this responsibility to her, or was it once her initiative? She thought of love a little. She thought of people she once thought she loved. She tried to remember what it was like to be loved, but the only feeling that remained in her memories was endless loneliness. She concluded that this loneliness was still there in her life, only now it was tarnished and deserted like the grave of anyone who does not live forever. She then thought of mortals. How come she possesses secret knowledge, true faith and hundreds years of living, but is vulnerable like a mere mortal? How come her feelings are no different from theirs? How come she is just as unhappy as they are? 

In the end she thought of this evening, that woman and that kiss. It seemed to her that she had lost her mind, so quietly that neither she nor her household noticed it. But she didn’t care to think much about it, she only rebuked herself for her own sentiment. 

That night, in the middle of the night, there was a scream. It penetrated the rooms and like a skilled thief, stole the silence with its deft and gentle fingers. The scream came again, desperate, terrified, but this time closer to the sisters’ bedroom. 

Hilda jumped down the bed. 

> Zelds, Zelda wake up! 

Putting all the disturbing thoughts away for future contemplation, Zelda turned her tired face to the sister and looked up at her with an attentive questioning look. 

Sabrina came running into the room. 

> What is it again? 

Zelda slowly lowered her legs from the bed to the floor and, having unexpectedly felt fit of rage, stood up sharply. But standing, all the emotions vanished and only deathly calmness remained. 

The words let themselves out, the movements were stiff and wrong as if they were borrowed from a stranger. So she led them out through a secret passage, here is a staircase (if only faltered not), now there are five of them. So many voices mixed together, screaming, cracking. Is hers one of them? She couldn’t tell, but there was something more to that, something completely unrelated. She was searching for it but couldn’t find as if it was hidden from her on purpose yet still physically present. She caught someone’s glance, she pierced into the eye and they seemed so familiar to her. 

> Auntie, the spell! 

The look was terrifying. It was cold, merciless, sharp as a blade, miraculously tranquilizing, though. 

> Zel-da... - called Hilda for her, tugging nervously at Zelda’s sleeve. 

Zelda looked over the face of the demon and found nothing familiar or peculiar but those eyes. The feeling that got her... it was as if she didn’t want to hurt this creature, didn’t want to lock it up or get rid of it in any way. 

And yet she did. A protocol was simple: seal the house and put the demon back where it belongs. So there was an urn and a spell. Simple. 

In the kitchen, where Hilda was pouring tea and Sabrina was bragging about her solving the configuration, Zelda kept thinking about those eyes, that look of a demon.

* * *

She remembered washing the blood off her hands. It dried under her nails and eaten into the skin of her fingers. She remembered scrubbing the blood away with a brush and a soap. It mixed with water and, having lost its ruby color, flowed down the drain. She could stillsmell it all: the blood, the drain, her own lathery fingers, even the air in the room. Her stomach knotted with tension. She touched it gently and that caring, motherlike gesture somehow reminded her of Hilda and made her cry. 

She waited for the tears to stop, but they all flowed and flowed down her cheeks, down her chin, and the screams all came from her mouth as if she wasn’t at all in control of it.

Then, after a minute, ten or an hour maybe, the door swung open. 

Zelda saw a female figure in the doorway. She straightened up and grew still. Hoping to see Hilda, she was watching the figure closely.

On her head she had a broad band of gold. And in that golden band above her head there appeared a second head, like a bird, whose beak touched the top of the first head. Parched wings protruded from behind the neck of the figure on either side, and rising up clear of the golden band their tips met and joined overhead.

Zelda swallowed hard, willing the lump in her throat to go away. The figure stood in the same place, bathing the room with white, magical light, but now Zelda saw her from the waist down. And from her waist to the legs, she had various blemishes.

She came closer and Zelda saw a beautiful woman shining with a splendor. She moved, as if not touching the floor, dressed in emerald silk. 

The woman looked at Zelda’s tear-stained face, and Zelda saw salvation in her large limpid eyes. She got up without realizing it and suddenly threw her arms around the woman’s neck and, unable to hold back tears anymore, cried against the woman’s shoulder. 

> It was just a little game. I killed her. She.. She’s never coming back. I-I didn’t want to, I didn’t....

She couldn’t finish the sentence. She felt a heavy guilt built up inside her as though all her pride, reason, and value had just washed out of her.

She felt the woman’s hand taking her by the waist. 

> Zelda...

The door opened. Zelda clung to the woman most desperately and looked toward the doorway, hoping to see Hilda in there. Holding Zelda round the waist, the woman didn’t seem to bother with the visitor. 

> Auntie! 

Sabrina burst into the room and saw Zelda standing there, crying in the stranger’s embrace. 

> Sabrina... Sabrina, she’s gone. I killed her. I...
> 
> Who’s gone, auntie? 

Zelda only shook her head, still hugging the woman tightly. She couldn’t repress the tears that had begun to flow. 

> It’s alright. 

The woman pulled Zelda to her and Sabrina could now see her face. 

> Miss Wardwell? What-What are you doing here?
> 
> Do I know you? 

She glanced at the girl. Pretending to have never met her, she calmly returned her gaze to Zelda’s face.

> Okay, this is just a dream. Auntie Zee, I’m sorry, I gotta go. 

Zelda didn’t hear a word, she was crying so hard that she almost couldn’t breathe. 

> Zelda. Don’t cry like that. Listen. 

A silky, dangerous voice echoed in Zelda’s head. She felt herself tremble. She wanted to stand like this forever, wanted to never part from these eyes that protected her from the icy horror of death. The woman moved away. 

> Zelda, look at me. 

She lifted her head up to that voice. 

> Calm down. You’re dreaming. It’s a sleep demon, she’s torturing you. 
> 
> No, no, it can’t be.. 

Zelda shook her head to clear out the darkness. For the first time she was afraid, was very afraid. Her lips were trembling, while her eyes wandered about uneasily. Tears rolled silently down Zelda’s cheeks.

> Come here. 

The woman put her arms around Zelda, pressing her tightly. She brushed her hand against rich ginger hair. Zelda’s shoulders began to heave slightly. 

> I’m scared
> 
> I know, darling, I know. It’s going to be alright very soon, I promise. 

She took Zelda’s face in both hands and gently ran the back of her hand across Zelda’s cheek, wiping her tears. 

Zelda looked at the woman’s face. She felt as if that woman was at the beginning of all holiness, she brought forth all created things without any contact with evil. But she wasn’t sure whether it was holiness of her kind. 

Feeling the urge to see what she was made of, Zelda took her hand. Observing silver, red and green lines converge on the woman’s palm, she felt different. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. She felt like she was trusted with something as deep and private as life itself. 

Studying the woman’s palm, she asked cautiously:

> So I didn’t really kill her?
> 
> Who?
> 
> My sister. I didn’t kill her?

Zelda turned wide unfledged eyes to her with a look of the most respectful hope.

> No, you didn’t. 

She nodded slowly and released the woman’s hand as if she lost interest in it. 

> And you? Do I dream of you too? 

The woman chuckled. 

> No. I came to you, in your dream. Don’t you recognize me? I have been to you a few times. 

Her blue eyes flashed, seeming to grow smaller and almost sharp. 

Zelda drew back. 

> I feel funny

She felt nausea, a strange noise in her ears made her head go round. 

> You’re waking up. Which means I gotta get going. 
> 
> No. No, stay...

She clung to the woman’s hand in affright. 

> Please. 

The thought of being left alone there was unbearable. Her body ached, the colors began to blur together. 

> We can’t live in a dream, Zelda Spellman

She stumbled back, still keeping hold of the woman’s hand. Zelda tilted her head with a low moaning, corners of her mouth dimpled in the beginnings of a smile. 

> Next time you pick the venue. 

Almost fainting, she leaned against the table. She watched the woman’s hand slip out of her grasp. 

> No, don’t, Lil...

The woman pressed two fingers against Zelda’s lips to prevent her from calling the name. She leaned towards her and whispered

> You can make do without me, Zelda Spellman

She felt a slight burning sensation under those fingers that touched the witch's lips. Zelda stood, still leaning on the table, slightly confused, with a grimace of pain on her face, almost not breathing and with her lips kissing those two unholy fingers.

* * *

Having returned from Zelda’s dream, Lilith felt an unusual warmth, a kind of homeliness. She looked down at her fingers searching to feel that kiss again but couldn’t, because it never physically happened, wasn’t a tangible. 

> That was very clever, Miss Spellman. 

She lifted herself from the floor, confused, uncertain what to do next, when there was a knock on the door. 

She knew exactly who it was. She opened the door:

> Sabrina. Why... It’s the middle of the night. What can I do for you? 
> 
> You can start by telling me the truth... about who and what you are. 
> 
> You’d better sit down, then. 

She came up with a reasonable explanation for this question long ago. 

It wasn’t hard to convince Sabrina of the truth of the story of an excommunicated witch, falling in love with a mortal and then with a great warlock, who charged her with guarding his only daughter, the apple of his eye. The only problem was that now she had to adhere to this legend.

> You looked in on both my aunts? 
> 
> What?
> 
> I saw you at my aunt Zelda's dream.
> 
> Sabrina, I confess to being in your dream, but your aunts are not my concern. It must have really been just a dream.
> 
> Why would she dream about you?
> 
> I .. I don’t know.

She looked down and away. That was regret. But why? 

Sabrina got up slowly from the armchair. 

> Consider your obligation to the Spellman family done. From now on, stay away from me. 

Sabrina left and Lilith was standing there, in the middle of the room, exhausted from that nocturnal wakefulness. 


End file.
